


to tie down a kite

by Mystical



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, this only suggests porn okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical/pseuds/Mystical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he carves his name over and over and over again into your skin with his breath and his fingers and his tongue and you sigh it back at him </p><p>he never answers</p>
            </blockquote>





	to tie down a kite

You bury your face in the nape of his neck and breathe in the smell of sex and sweat and

you want more.

god, you want more. You want to hold his hand, you want to go on ice cream dates, you want to kiss him in a sailboat under the light of the full moon and whisper sweet nothings in his ear and hear his unironically dorky laugh.

you want him to view you as something other than a fuckbuddy and you want to fall asleep with him by your side.

he’s leaving already.

your hands grasp empty air and he turns and looks at you, appraising you for one long moment and

he’s beautiful, bronze skin shining in the soft light cast by the streetlamps outside your window and blue eyes as bright as the few non-shitty swords your bro still has that he never lets you touch. You don’t want to capture him in that moment, you want to strip him of everything that’s beautiful, you want to rip at his skin until he’s as naked and bare as he’ll ever be and maybe then you won’t love him as much.

there’s a sardonic edge to his grin. “i don’t love you, dave.”

and it hurt because you remember back when a name was just a name and it didn’t matter how it was said but now it’s not right, not right and you remember talking to him until 3 in the morning and

where did your John go?

you’ve come to terms that this isn’t the same john you’re used to, the same one you grew up with but it _hurt,_ god it still hurt and you still love him the same even after all these years.

“yeah,” you say and watch as he pulls up his pants. You button your jeans, smooth out your shirt and swing yourself off of the bed. By the time he’s finished dressing you’ve managed to comb your hair so that it looked somewhat presentable.

his perpetually messy locks still reek of sex, but maybe you’re biased here.

you reach for your shades beside the bed and you don’t realize that you’d grabbed his wrist instead until he stops and turns, expression unreadable and who would’ve thought _John_ of all people would have such a good poker face?

“why?” you ask.

a brief flash of annoyance crosses his features. “I’ve already told you, Dave,” he says and pulls on his arm. “Let me go, I’m late.”

and suddenly

you’re angry

you’re _livid._

“you know what you fucking do to me,” you growl, naked red eyes boring into his blue and he flinches under your gaze, looking anywhere but at you. “you know what you fucking do and you still come back every night-” you cut yourself off, take a deep breath and never take your eyes off his. “what do i do?”

he doesn’t answer and you know he’s avoiding confrontation, ducking, trying to hide, trying to run away like he always does when forced with a dilemma. “what do i fucking do, john?” and you won’t let him, not this time, not this time—

you can’t stay mad at him. you can’t, you can’t, it’s impossible because you belong to him, so much of you belong to him already and it

hurts

so much, more than anything else in the world.

you tug his wrist until he stumbles into you, wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in his neck. “don’t go,” you whisper. “john, don’t go, please, god can you pretend, just once, please…”

he gently pries you off of him. “let me go, dave.”

your arms fall slack, and you watch as he leaves through the door, and you’ve never felt lonelier in your life.


End file.
